


9/10ths

by TheCarrot



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Addams Family Fusion, Blood- Mentioned, Dark Love, It's the Addams after all, Jealousy, M/M, Possessive Behavior, Probably a few allusions I shouldn't have made
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-21
Updated: 2020-10-21
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:49:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27138247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheCarrot/pseuds/TheCarrot
Summary: “But they’re so in love, mother” Wednesday sighs without prompting. Waving a dismissive hand towards the bar where Poe is standing, his eyes moving cooly out across the floor towards the dark figure of her current favourite person. “It’s revolting, he deserves to suffer.”
Relationships: Poe Dameron/Finn
Comments: 6
Kudos: 30





	9/10ths

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mssrj_335](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mssrj_335/gifts), [sapphistication](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sapphistication/gifts), [AgrippaSpoleto](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AgrippaSpoleto/gifts).
  * Inspired by [A Fitting](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27037717) by [mssrj_335](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mssrj_335/pseuds/mssrj_335). 
  * Inspired by [Anything, My Love!](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27052873) by [sapphistication](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sapphistication/pseuds/sapphistication). 



> Yup, this is me, jumping on the bandwagon :D

“Gomez my love, did you perchance invite those pesky Skywalkers?” Mortisha asks curiously, blade thin eyebrow raising sharply as he peers through the crowd of family gathered in their dining hall. “You know how our Poe feels about Lucas.”

“It wasn’t me darling?” Gomez frowns returning to her side, curling an arm around her waist.

The two ponder a moment then, without a word, turn in unison to face Wednesday who is sitting quietly at the table behind them. They’ve sent her to bed twice already, far too early in the night for her to be awake yet. How lovely of her.

“But they’re so in love, mother” Wednesday sighs without prompting. Waving a dismissive hand towards the bar where Poe is standing, his eyes moving cooly out across the floor towards the dark figure of her current favourite person. “It’s revolting, he deserves to suffer.”

“I think it’s lovely,” Gomez cries, “Cara mía, don’t you agree?"

Mortica merely lets the corner of her mouth twitch upwards, a shadow and a glimmer of a smile. “Well, I doubt those two will mind should this event take a turn for the worse.” She’ll allow Wednesday her fun. She supposes it will be good for Poe. “Jealousy is so befitting an Aadams.”

\-- 

He hesitates to use the word soirée, but Poe can admit no other term suits the occasion as well as that. Conversation a flit in the room, topic solely that of his Undertaker; and truly, Poe is proud to show him off to the family in the same way Finn would show off the caskets and urns he displays so proudly along his shop walls. 

Poe leans against the table, bright brown eyes searching out that broad and severe silhouette he adores, and that is when sees it. 

He freezes. Suddenly sick for the sight of snow pale fingers brushing against the soothing dark of Finns.

It’s a glancing touch, fleeting but impropriety in its existence, but it is enough to make Poe’s vision cloud in ire. Feels like Finn's cat o' nine has just lashed him in the heart, tearing into delicate flesh unlucky enough to leave no visible mark.

He pays no heed to the drinks Lurch has set before him on the bar, drinks for him and Finn no less, but Poe is so distracted by how Finn lets her touch linger. How he does not brush the woman touching him away.

For it has only been a few moments of absence for him— and truly it is but a minute or so, but every second not by the other man's side is forever too long; and now Poe feels the woman’s presence like an encroachment upon that which he has laid claim too. 

Poe wishes to dig his nails into her arms. Rip her away from Finn until she falls away in a cower.

Tear her asunder until naught left but bones and blood. Recompence. 

Remind Finn with hands coated red and teeth sharp against lustrous dark skin, exactly how much Poe adores him, loves him. Craves him. Refuses that gracious touch to be shared.

Poe’s moving before he can stop himself, until at last, verily at last, it’s been so long-- he presses the length of himself to every muscled curve of Finns back, marvels and crows at coming into the man's blind spot with nary a remark nor sound nor jump. 

A proof even further that he is as much a part of Finn as Finn is of Poe. 

Regrettably Poe is not tall enough to rest his chin on that deliciously broad shoulder, instead presses his stubbled cheek to black satin, allows his lips to brush the collar of the trim suit and feels the smallest of shivers run its course through the man he’s wrapping himself around.

Let’s his arm snake tight against Finn's waist until he there is no space at all, wanting to hold, squeeze until there is not an ounce of breath left to the Undertaker that Poe has not allowed; sourced from his own lungs.

Also regrettably, they are in polite company, whatever that’s supposed to mean, Poe finds it dreadful and an irritant. Hateful.

Instead he slips his hand along the black button down Finn donned earlier that night, drags his fingertips along the bone-ivory buttons beneath that slim slip of red tie. The only splashes of colour allotted to this suit. 

Nothing but a tease, that tie, catching Poe’s attention from every angel. A glimpse of passion in the utter darkness that narrows Poe’s vision in regards to his Undertaker.

“Is there a matter, my love?” Finn queries, voice flat but eyebrow ticking upwards slightly in interest at the interruption. 

“No dearest.” Poe returns coldly, voice like ice shards that impale deep into the bared skin of Finn's neck above the line of his collar. He casts unamused brown eyes over the satin, takes in the girl; scrawny and rabid, he thinks grossly. How dare this woman of all things take Finn's attention so. 

That was Poe's job and Poe’s job alone. 

“Indeed.” Finn adds no infliction to the word, but Poe can feel it swirl in the air around them nonetheless. 

A smirk intoned.

Smugness.

Gloating.

The sudden tightness around his wrist makes Poe’s heart swoop beneath his breastbone. Finns fingers wide and calloused. Cold and strong. Unrelenting. Poe stops breathing at the way it makes the bones beneath grind together. 

It will bruise beautifully.

“If you will excuse us Miss Skywalker.”

The pale girl nods sharply, like the action is as strange to her as Finn's words, but she takes her leave with a haste Poe suddenly may not hate her for. He grins, lips turned up sharply and teeth gleaming in the light of the chandelier for no one but himself and the spiders in the corners to be privy to.

Poe shifts, wants to slide along like the sharpest daggers until he stands before Finn, wants to press along the firm torso that lifting coffins and caskets alike has given his love.

Only Finns fingers do not cease their hold, tightens it rather and Poe winces; salivates at the mere idea of being able to trace the impression of Finns hands around him tomorrow.

A delicious ache that not moments ago was mirrored in Poe’s heart at the sight of that woman's hand upon Finn's arm. However there is so sour tinge to this pain, no pleasing burning or lingering yearning like there was when Poe’s heart had curled up like a struck thing, lashing out in his possessiveness.

“Such a wild thing you are.” Finn muses suddenly, leaning back a scant millimeter, soaks in the line of heat that is the infuriating man. His infuriating man. With his dangerously lovely eyes and casual touch that spoke sonnets on his skin without words.

“She overstepped.” Poe grinds out. His nose digging into the seam of satin jacket, inhaling the sharp scent of Finns aftershave, the cloying chemical sweetness of lingering embalming fluid. His mouth waters with want to taste.

“Imagine.” 

Finn lets go a low chuckle and reaches out to gather Poe’s still free wrist in his other hand and copies the hold he has on him. Until Finn can press along the fine bones of either wrist… a quick snap is all it would take. Leave Poe helpless and gasping on the floor. Finn could watch him writhe as the bones are set, wrap him up and bring him to bed, keep him there until fully healed… all for Finn, completely dependent on him.

For everything.

Food, water, even his pleasure, all at Finns luxury. It would be so easy to pick and fiddle with him then, greater than how he already wraps his bright burning star in the twisted mercy he offers. He could so easily deny Poe everything. Perhaps even make Poe gorge himself until he begs for mercy with no hope of escape until Finn sees fit. 

“A shiver darling?” Poe whispers, the ice completely melted from his tone, now it is nothing but warm wet air that seeps through the layers Finn has himself wrapped in. “You mustn’t tempt me so.”

It would be a fitting punishment for his lovers actions tonight Finn assures himself.

The Undertaker uses his hold to drag Poe along behind him, pays no heed to the looks and the leers of the extended Addams and Dameron’s around them. Loosens his grip enough to allow the blood back into Poe’s fingers as they climb the stairs.

Poe’s whimper at the painful rush of feeling makes Finns mouth water and he knows immediately that it is only the first whimper he will draw from his love tonight. 

He will have Poe screaming, shouts echoing out the door he will leave open for the ears of the varied guests below to bear witness too. 

Finn lets a dark smile crowd his lips and drags Poe before himself, releases him before sending him to his knees with a sharp insistence as Finn leans against the wall; sinks his fingers into gelled black curls until the line of Poe’s throat is bared towards him. 

A blank canvas of submission that Finn will use to leave bruises to match the already darkening ones on Poe’s wrists. For if Poe thinks he was subtle in his jealousy, Finn will have no problem informing him how wrong he was. 

Grazes deft fingers along the curve of cheekbone that falls so beautifully into his palm when Poe whines high and tight.

Yes, Finn thinks, he will show everyone this otherworldly possession he has ensnared, and the world will learn what it truly means to be jealous.


End file.
